


Every Dark Has An Afterglow

by adrenalin211



Category: 24
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2012-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:59:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrenalin211/pseuds/adrenalin211
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He always finds her in any room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Dark Has An Afterglow

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Century_fox for Christmas fic, which resides [here!](http://adrenalin211.livejournal.com/7314.html#cutid1). The title comes from The Blondie song _The Dream’s Lost On Me_. AMAZING!

She forces open the sliding-glass door and steps out onto the deck, breathing in the semi-chill of late December LA air in large gulps. The sun is as cheerful as everyone inside, vibrant and loud, booming with life.

She can hear Teri's delighted screech all the way out here, the sound of Stephen's entire extended family opening gag gifts they got for each other (each with a considerable dose of had-to-be-there inside joke flavor that makes them laugh until they cry), the drowned-out hum of ‘Little Drummer Boys’ and ‘O Holy Nights’ from an expensive Bose stereo system.

She tries to refocus on the noises out here: rush of wind moving around the trees, a few birds lamenting the unseasonably cold day, the sound of the car engines that remind her of the city, allow her to pretend she's home when she shuts her eyes.

The sound of footsteps approaching her; she doesn't have to turn around to know that it's Jack.

She feels his hand on the small of her back, the warmth of him moving inward, joining her where she leans against the deck rails.

"Too much?" he asks.

She nods.

"This is even too much for me. I had no idea Stephen's family was so..."

He trails off.

"Lively?" she tries.

"One word for it," Jack says and when she looks over at him, at the curve of his lip as he smirks, she knocks her elbow against his...

...And cracks the first _real_ smile she has all day.

"Thank you," she says.

"For what?"

"Following me out here."

Jack holds eye contact with her until she moves in to hug him.

"It'll get easier," he says, his words blowing her hair.

It's moments like these when she remembers that it's all about perspective. Three months ago she wouldn’t have been able to come with him here. Even last month she wouldn't have lasted, a fake grin molded on her face like clay, for half as long as she did today.

"It’s already easier," she says, letting him go.

"Let me take you home," he whispers, but when she looks at his eyes, the generosity there, she finds what she needs. She realizes that she wants, more than anything, to put him first today.

"No," she states, sure that she can do this. "It's almost over. Just give me another minute out here?"

He nods. "Take as long as you need."

+++++

She returns to the party, sucking in a last breath of outdoor air before stepping foot inside. Jack is watching her from across the room with concerned eyes he probably thinks he’s doing a good job of hiding. His lips turn up into a half smile.

(He always finds her in any room.)

Renee is about to go join him when she hears Kim’s voice a few feet away.

“I was just looking for you!”

She turns around to find her. “Kim,” is all she can think to say.

 _God, she’s terrible at this whole social thing._

Kim hands her a glass of wine, leaning in close to Renee’s ear. Her voice lowers. “I practically drink half a bottle getting through these things,” she whispers. “It’s funny. Almost everyone in Stephen’s family is insanely brilliant, holds a professional degree of some sort, but they’re just…”

“I know what you mean,” Renee says, saving her from coming up with an adjective applicable to all of them. At the mere acknowledgement that Renee feels it _too_ , Kim can hardly hold in her laughter.

“I just don’t _get_ their humor,” she sighs, very careful to keep her voice down. When she quirks her eyebrow, Renee’s sure that the amusement is evident on her face.

“Thanks for the wine,” Renee says, raising her glass to clink with Kim’s, who’s grinning now, and, to be honest, so is she.

And when she thinks about it, (Jack’s eyes soft and smiling from across the living room), she knows that later, she won’t regret the extra half hour when she tolerated the noise.

It occurs to her that this moment with Kim is the most human connection she’s made, aside from that with Jack, since she was released from the hospital. And the smile on his face (she’s not sure how she knows this, she just does) has less to do with the fact that it’s his daughter she’s laughing with, and much more to do with the fact that she’s laughing at all.

She hears his voice in her head, something he said months ago:

 _You’ll put yourself back together. Not overnight. But I’ll be here._

I promise.

+++++

When the car hums to life and the radio blares on, Jack’s turning it off almost as fast. Without asking, he knows that she needs the quiet.

That she needs nothing but the sound of the wheels against pavement, key-chain brushing the ignition as it swings, and the faded background of city ruckus.

At a stoplight he reaches over and puts a hand on her knee; she bites her lip to keep from breaking, because there’s no logical explanation for knowing how much she needed that, too.

When she turns her head he smiles, wraps a hand around a fallen strand of hair, tucks it behind her ear.

Then, she blinks and the light’s green.

++++++

She has these flannel pajama pants, plaid purple and green that match absolutely nothing.

They ride up her leg the way she’s sitting on the couch. Her feet are elevated on the arm of the sofa, her head on Jack’s lap, her face angled toward the Christmas tree and lit up by colorful bulbs. Jack’s hand runs through the mess that is her hair right now.

Her feet are cold, hanging off the edge of the couch like this, but she doesn’t care. She has no plans to move just yet.

“I know today wasn’t ideal,” he says, breaking the quiet, “but I’m glad you decided to come.” His voice is quiet, sincere, and as close as she is to him in this moment, she just wants to subtract all feet and inches that separate each body part because there’s nowhere else she feels _this_ safe.

“Jack,” she says. She rolls her head around to look up at him. His thumb traces her hairline as he meets her gaze, his eyes gentle.

“What?” he whispers, amused, probably, at the gleam she tries to summon into her eyes.

“Kiss me?”

He grins and leans forward, fingers moving to her ear; he doesn’t have to wait long before she meets him halfway.

Somewhere in the back of her head, the fraction of a percentage that isn’t distracted by his tongue and what it’s doing to her, she laughs at herself.

At the way, with everyone else, she has these _moments_ when she can’t get far enough away.

And with Jack, it’s the exact opposite.

Both, as it turns out, result in loss of breath.


End file.
